Total Eclipse
by FantasticallyFanatical
Summary: Of the heart? Amy loves Rory. Rory loves Amy. Or so they think. Amy/11 fic with Rory added in too. Un-beta'd and post 5x07.


A/N: This is an odd little piece, complied of romance, angst, friendship and Lord knows what else. I don't quite know where this will end, but I do know where it starts. Post 5x07 and un-beta'd - you have been warned. Centres essentially on Amy/Eleven, but Rory pipes up here and there. As do others..

* * *

"I am officially giving you two 24 hours leave from this here TARDIS. You may both do as you please as long as you do not, under _any_ circumstances, interfere with any fixed events."

"Why are you directing this at me?" Rory was, the Doctor concluded, the sensitive type. "_I'm_ the safe one."

"And I'm not?" Amy's arched eyebrow silenced Rory alone. "That's what I thought. Anyway Doctor, what you doing to do whilst we're gone?"

"Amy, I have travelled on my own before. Many times, in fact. So go on, off you pootle."

"Doctor, is that even a wor-"

"Bye!" Shutting the TARDIS door had never been more pleasurable. He watched the screen as Amy stared at the impossible blue box, tapping her foot impatiently. "If you think I'm going to open that door for you Amy Pond, you don't know me at all."

* * *

"Amy, look! A giant lizard!" Rory's excitement didn't spread.

"We have those in Leadworth, Rory." She tugged his hand in the opposite direction, desperate to find her way out of the zoo Rory had somehow dragged them into. "Where's your sense of adventure, Rory?"

"Probably in the same place as your affection." It was harsh and Rory knew it. It was true and Amy knew it. Rory dropped his hand from in-between hers and sighed, shaking his head as he waited for her protests. They never came.

* * *

"You, sir, are a fine specimen of man. And I have missed you greatly."

"Missed me? I don't think you even know m-"

"Halt!" The Doctor slapped a warm hand over the other man's mouth. "Say no more. I know who you are and perhaps that's all the matters. Are you fond of flowers, sir?"

"Flowers?" The mumble was half distinguishable until the Doctor removed his hand, sniffing it as he did so.

"You know, perennials, biennials, that sort of stuff."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Can I interest you in a tulip? Or a marigold. Or," the Doctor paused, closing his eyes just briefly, "would you prefer a rose?"

* * *

"Are we just going to sit here and not talk for the rest of the day? Because if we are Amy, then-"

"Then _what_, Rory? What, you suddenly feel threatened by the Doctor and now you wanna play the tough-guy act?"

"You couldn't do it, could you?"

"Do what?"

"Not bring him into this. It can never just be me and you, Amy. You know, I knew it was a mistake, me coming along-"

"No, don't say that." Amy sounded genuinely hurt, her eyes showing a vulnerability Rory had never before witnessed.

"But it was, Amy, because this always happens. You travel with the Doctor and then nothing's ever enough after that. It can never just be you and me, birthdays and Christmases. It's all planets and Sun Gods and Darthleks-"

"It's Daleks."

"You see? Amy, this is what I'm talking about." Rory shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I should have listened to Smithy."

"Smithy? Who's Smithy?" Amy stands perilously close to the edge; the edge of reason, the edge of desperation and, more worryingly, the edge of the cliff.

"A friend. Listen Amy, that's not the point. I came with you because I want to actually be with you. Not with you and some other guy who frankly, we know nothing about."

"Some other guy who's saved your life, Rory. We died for you – _I _died for you. Isn't that enough?"

"No Amy, this time it's not."

* * *

The man eyes the Doctor warily; he's tired of this lifestyle and recent events have made his more suspicious than ever before. He took himself to a place that was so dark he never thought he'd ever see light again, but now he's been, he knows he's susceptible to go back.

"Is this some sort of sick joke? Because I gotta tell you, I'm not in the mood."

"Well that's not like you." The Doctor hones in and wills him to realise who he is, because saying it always makes it that little bit less impressive. "So keeping up with the Joneses? Or should I say keeping in touch with the Joneses?" How many more hints did he need?

And then, the eyes widen, the glass touches the table with a shaky hand and two large arms envelope the Doctor.

"Tell me it's you,"

"It's me," the Doctor replies, a sad smile etched into his eyes.

* * *

Read, review and enjoy :)


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